Permanently Temporary
by ignorance1
Summary: What if the Flock werent the only bird kids in the School? What if Jeb made other experiments just like them. And Why and how does Iggy know one of them? Set In The Angel Experiment. OC
1. Permenantly Temporary

**This is my new story-thing. Its Max Ride, but with some OC. Anyway, R&R please?**

Pain. Pain. Pain. More pain. Physical pain. Mental pain. The pains of feeling heavy sharp claws rake across your skin when you are too weak to stand. The pain of being shoved mercilessly into a metal cage. The pain of needles, of experiments.

This was all I felt during my fourteen years of life here at the School. Nothing was done with care; no one showed any sympathy, any mercy, and any care that they were experimenting on actual _people. _That it was actual _painful._

That is what I was feeling right now. The pain of being shoved against the cold metal bars of my cage, the pain of a new cut on my cheek.

Yup, pain was my middle name.

To be perfectly honest, I didn't even have a name. All I was to those Whitecoats was "Experiment 15". Nope not even the decency of a name.

I rolled on the floor of my cage into a sitting position, my knees to my chest, and scooted to the corner. Tentatively, I touched my cheek. Ouch.

Three new slashes from the Erasers claws, right on my cheek like a freakin' trophy. It kinda was a trophy, seeing as they got really mad when I got smart and mouthed off to them. Looking back, I thought that was my best comeback to date. Must remember it for future uses. That is, if I wanted to have my whole face ripped to shreds. No, it was worth it, talking back to Erasers.

Yeah, Erasers. Not those pink things on top of the sticks the Whitecoats called pencils. I wish. They would be easier to break.

No, these Erasers were not at all pink or round. They were huge, hairy, wolf-like men, other experiments done here, courtesy of the School. They were used as body guards, or used to beat up bird kids like me.

Yes, you read this right. Bird kid. I'm an Avian-Human mutant freak. How, you ask? Just ask my 13-foot wingspan of pure feathery delight on my back.

That's right! I've got wings people!

Sure, some of you would say "OMG! YOU'VE GOT WINGS! That's so COOL!!"

And, I totally agree with you! That is, if I wasn't stuck in this freakin' science lab, and in a cage like a DOG! But still they're pretty cool. The good thing is that I don't have any other bird parts, like beak or legs. Just wings, and other side-talents, like raptor vision, night vision, speed, strength, fast-healing, and such.

The door was opening. I stopped, and froze in the corner, ready to give whatever Eraser or Whitecoat that came in the evil eye.

It was a Whitecoat; I could see his shiny shoes and the hem of his white lab coat as he stopped in front of my cage. He bent down.

"Hi, how are you?" he asked softly, smiling.

I glared at him. "This is how you treat a hostage? What? Were you absent the day they taught you how?"

Faint pink blotches appeared in his cheeks, as he continued without answering. "What's your name?"

"Oh, I don't know" I answered sarcastically "How 'bout Girl Stuck In A CAGE" I nearly shouted. Then in a quieter, nicer voice that was totally FAKE. "And you?"

He ignored me again, sitting down crossed-legged on the floor. "How about I call you "Little One"? He asked, ever so politely. He obviously meant my height. I was only 5'6, and apparently, that was short for my…species.

I glared "How 'bout I call you "Guy in White Lab Coat" I countered.

The pink blotches became more apparent. He mumbled something that sounded like "Just like Max" and looked at me again. I stared back evenly.

"Why don't you choose a name for yourself, then"? The Whitecoat said unexpectedly. Huh?

"What?" I asked, shocked. What was he getting at?

"Choose a name for yourself" he repeated softly.

I was way too shocked to think of a smart comeback. All that came out was a surprisingly meek "I don't know one."

He studied me. I stared back, too stunned to glare or anything.

No Whitecoat or Eraser had ever asked me what my name was. Did this mean that I was going to be treated as an actual person?

"What about something that describes you? Your personality, your looks, your talents, your wings" he added, smiling at me nicely. I looked at him, lost.

"What's a persanility?" I asked. Yeah, I might be fourteen years old, but I have the schooling of a third grader.

"The way you act, if you are nice or mean, caring, generous. Stuff like that"

"Oh" I said, thinking. I thought. And thought. And thought. But nothing that came to mind sounded good. I looked back at the Whitecoat, a little lost.

"Something about your wings?" he suggested.

I spread my wings instinctively, as far as they would go in the cage and drew them around me. I was so proud of my wings. They were a glossy white on the underside, and jet black on the other, with a patch of red near the tops. I didn't know what type of DNA they implanted in me, but they were some dang awesome wings.

"Anything"? the Whitecoat asked. I shook my head no.

"What about your looks"? He said gently.

My rapier tongue, which had been MIA at the moment, was back.

"Oh sure, let's see, Hey, metal bars, can you tell me what I look like? No? Is it because you can't reflect anything?!" I said sarcastically, my voice rising.

The Whitecoat looked surprised. "You've never looked in a mirror"?

I rolled my eyes "No, I'm not Princess What's-Her-Face with mirrors to spare, you know!"

His facial expression remained unchanged as I glared at him through the bars of my cage. After all, he was one of _them_.

"Would you like me to describe you?" he asked, nicely.

I smirked and crossed my arms across my chest. "Sure, let's have it. I'm pale, skinny, underfed, ungroomed, not at all polite, brown hair and a mutant freak. What else is there?"

"You have the nicest brown eyes I've ever seen" he said "And an oval face, nice shoulder-length hair and…"

"A mutant freak. Come on, you know you want to say it" I cut in with a sneer. "And don't forget them three slashes from the Erasers"

He shrugged indifferently. I wanted to kill him right then and there. Who can just _shrug_ when a person just told them that they have three _slashes_ on their face?

"Well, I have to go" the Whitecoat said, standing up. "Think of a name, and in the meantime, you can call me Jeb."

I scoffed "I don't think so"

He smiled sadly as he opened the door.

"Just trust me" he said, standing in the doorway.

I actually laughed.

**Yes, first chapter up. **

**Heres my quote for the day :**

Now, let's say they come and get us." –Max  
"And, like, the halls are full of zebras."-Ig  
"And suddenly tons of bubbles are everywhere." -Gazzy  
"And then everyone starts to eat beef jerky," -Nudge  
"Yeah. I'll grab a zebra; Gaz, you fill all the bubbles with your trademark scent, so people are choking and gagging: and let's throw beef jerky right into their eyes! Now, that's a plan!" –Ig"

Haha REVIEW???


	2. Accidentally On Purpose

**Second chapter everyone! **

It's been a week since my encounter with "Jeb", and to be perfectly honest, I liked it that way. Not only did Jeb not come and see me anymore, but there haven't been any experiments for the last week. Still, nothing creepier than a Whitecoat trying to get friendly with you. Though, the "No Experiments" streak was cut short as soon as I heard the door open.

Two Erasers walked through the door, pushing along some kind of rolling table. The Erasers stopped in front of my cage and bent down. One of them smiled, highlighting a long scar across his muzzle, his fangs yellow and dripping drool.

"Hello Tweety" he said mockingly, grabbing the cage bars and rattling them. "Ready to get killed?" They laughed, a horrible grunting sound.

I smiled angelically, and then kicked the place where his fingers were with all my might. I heard a satisfying crunch, as he roared in pain. The other one smacked my cage so hard; I toppled over and hit my head on the hard floor, making stars erupted before my eyes.

The Erasers lifted my cage onto the table harshly, making my head ache. They rolled me to the door and out into the plain white hallway.

Usually, whenever they take me out of the room, it means that I was going to be experimented on. So, naturally, I started to panic, just a little.

We rounded a corner and continued down the hall, until we stopped in front of a room. The Eraser with the broken fingers opened the door, grimacing as he tried to flex his hand. I inwardly smiled proudly. The other one pushed my table violently in, and I saw what was inside. Oh no, treadmills.

A female Whitecoat walked up and took the handles of the table and rolled me further inside. Darn, no escape.

"Thank you" she said to the Erasers. "You may leave."

They nodded, eyeing me hungrily, slamming the door as they left.

I turned my attention to the situation at hand. When I was brought to this room, it means a whole lot of running. I've learned in the past that trying to fight back would only tire you, so, as they opened my cage, I stepped out silently.

Another Whitecoat shoved me rather roughly onto the treadmill. I was about to retort, but was silenced as I felt the sting of a needle on my arm. I closed my eyes and tried not to freak out. They continued to apply other wires to me, and when they finished, stepped back and sat down facing me.

The guy that had shoved me was sitting at some sort of machine. He caught my eye and said "Run" then pushed a button.

Immediately, the treadmill started moving. I almost fell at the beginning, but quickly matched the brisk pace. It started to speed up until, 5 minutes later, I was full out running.

Here's the thing about treadmills. The Whitecoats keep you running and running until you just want to die because you're so tired and your sides and legs burn like there's no tomorrow. Then, you fall down and crash into the wall behind you, giving the Whitecoats something to laugh about.

After running continuously for about an hour, my legs started to give out. That was kind of weird, because last time, I lasted for two. But I think that something had to do with the fact that I haven't eaten for the last few days. Jerks.

I was starting to feel a little unbalanced, my legs moving weakly, my breath coming out in short hard gasps. I began to feel really lightheaded, then, all of a sudden, my face met something really hard.

I barely had time to register the pain that had exploded in my mouth before the treadmill shot me violently backward into the wall behind me. A small yelp of pain escaped me as my wings throbbed with the impact. My head had cracked against the wall, sending me on the verge of passing out. I could taste something wet and tangy in my mouth. Blood.

The whirling of the treadmill stopped, as the female Whitecoat said "One hour. It needs to improve. Steve, get it out of here and into the room. We'll continue with the next experiment."

Of course, this was nothing but a game to the Whitecoats. They didn't care that my heart and breathing rate were not at all healthy. I was still in a heap on the ground behind the treadmill, when I was swung upward by Steve, I think.

"Do I put it in its cage or in the other room?" He asked, carrying me in a fireman's lift.

"Didn't you hear me Steve? I clearly said we'll continue with the next experiment. Put it with the other one." I heard the female Whitecoat reply snidely.

I felt myself be carried out of the room, and into another one, my arms swinging lifelessly. Steve, I think, lowered me down, and then dropped me on the floor, making me groan in pain. My head rolled to the side, my eyes fluttered open for a second. I saw the door close, and a huddled figure in a corner before a dark and welcome blackness overtook me.

**Ohhh, so cliché. I wonder who the figure is. You wanna find out? Review and I can update faster. At least 5 come on. **


	3. Almost Exactly

**Ehh, I figured I might as well update this chapter before the day ends. Llama Llama Mer!**

Ever woken up with something bothering you, and reached out to slap it away, only to hit something immensely painful? Not a very good way to start the day right? My case was very similar.

I was in that state, between consciousness and unconsciousness, when suddenly; I could feel myself being moved. Dragged, to be more accurate. At first, my brain was: WTF? Then, it kicked into: Die (___) Die!

Immediately, my eyes snapped open and my legs kicked out. The hands under my arms disappeared and I crashed down onto the floor, my head aching from the previous fall.

"Oomph" I said as my breath came out in a huff. Quickly, I jumped into a standing position, but started to sway. Black spots covered my vision as the blood ran out of my brain. My hands flew up as I shook my head, stumbling a bit.

"You Ok?" a voice asked.

I looked up, still clutching my head. A boy was standing in front of me. Correction: a _birdkid _was standing in front of me, staring at me with wide amused eyes. He was wearing the same outfit I was, a ratty gray shirt and baggy sweats. His hair was really dark and long, but cut in a way that looked good. He was pale, and eyes that were a weird sort of color, amber and green. What was it called? Hazel?

"Yeah" I replied, straightening up. "Who are you?"

He looked at me carefully, before answering.

"Um, the Whitecoats call me Experiment 10, but I call myself Art." He said shrugging. "You?"

"I'm Experiment 15…but I don't have a name yet." I said slowly.

He looked taken aback

"You don't have a name?" he-Art- asked, surprised.

I shook my head slowly, taking in my surroundings.

The white room was empty, except for me, Art, a small foot long window. I walked over to it and peered out.

Our room seemed to be on the third story of the building, overlooking some kind of courtyard, filled with Erasers. They were chasing something, a human like figure.

I turned away not wanting to see. Art had sat down in a corner, his wings pulled around him, staring at me. I walked over and sat down in front of him, appraising his wings. They were a warm chocolate brown, the secondary feathers lighter, with some grey spots flecked onto them, like silver.

He studied me apprehensively, as if not knowing whether to trust me or not.

"So, what are you?" he asked casually, staring at a place to my right.

I spread my wings wide as an answer. Art's eyes widened as he noticed my wings.

"You're Avian?" He asked, amazed.

"Yep." I nodded, flaunting my wings a little.

Art smiled gleefully. "I've never seen another Avian before," he said.

"Really?"

"Yeah, I've only seen reptile crosses, and cat crosses. They either die or they get taken by Erasers." He looked a little miserable at the thought, but then brightened up. "But since I lasted for so long, maybe you will too!"

"So, what are we, invincible?" I asked teasingly, trying to lighten the mood. It worked.

He laughed, but with an edge. "No, we just last longer."

"So what are we doing here?" I asked, looking around.

"Well, this is like another Storage Room, one where they keep all the ones that they don't have cages for anymore. I've been here my whole life." He shrugged again.

At that moment, the door started to slide open. Art tensed up, sitting on his heels. I rolled to my knees and watched the door. Two Whitecoats walked in. They had food trays, quickly set them on the floor, and were out by the next second.

Art and I looked at the food, then at each other. At the same time, we both scrambled up and launched at the food.

The tray had a small portion of watery gravy with a small heap of mashed potatoes, a small bowl of thin soup and hard bread, with a bottle of water. We both wolfed it down hungrily, mine was gone in seconds. I was hungrier than I thought. I haven't eaten in three days. Jerks.

Art had eaten his portion more slowly, saved the bread in his pocket, and only drank half the water. Smart.

He threw the empty tray at the door, picked up his bottle, and went back to his corner.

Feeling more hungry than before the food, I set the tray aside and followed him. I sat down; knees to my chest, beside his relaxed form and asked, "So, Art,"

He turned to look at me, eyebrows raised in question. I continued.

"How did you get your name anyway?" I asked, stretching my legs out in front of me, staring at my ripped shoes.

He laughed and drew his wings around himself again. "Why? Are you planning to name yourself?"

I looked at him. "Well, yes, but I want to know how you got yours."I replied, drawing my wings around me too and fingering the white feathers.

"Well, I have magic powers" he said in a spooky voice. That immediately caught my attention.

"Really? What kind of powers?"

"I named myself because of my power, and to be perfectly honest, it's pretty cool." He said, glancing sideways at me.

"What, you can paint Picasso or something? Is that why your name is Art?" I asked seriously.

He laughed, "No, but I can draw."

"That's your power? You can draw?" I said, skeptically. No way was that a real power. He must be playing with me.

Art chuckled again. "No, I can draw the future."

**Wow, Art is Picasso! Well, anyway, who has heard Let The Flames Begin by Paramore? If you haven't, go listen to it. REVIEW!!! Come on, I'm shooting for at least 5 reviews. Please??**


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